


One Day at a Time

by sonni_with_an_i



Series: Bound to the Ruins [2]
Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cigarettes, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family, Flashbacks, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Messed up family dynamics, Pain, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Verbal Abuse, Physical Abuse, Police, Scars, Self-Hatred, Showers, Sisters, Vacation, Verbal Abuse, mention only of ethan nestor, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27908050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonni_with_an_i/pseuds/sonni_with_an_i
Summary: A little vacation to see your family; that's all it was supposed to be... Until you went ahead and ruined it.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/You
Series: Bound to the Ruins [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039402
Kudos: 9





	One Day at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of graphic past abuse (emotional, verbal, physical) no abuse goes on currently. Mention only of Ethan Nestor. Mentions of an alcoholic mom and abusive dad and subsequent trauma from both of those, mentions of past self harm, no actual self-harming in this one but graphic depictions of pain?. graphic hospitalization description? 
> 
> National suicide prevention hotline: 800-273-8255

You stand at the hood of your car, feeling the cold metal on your back slightly shielded by your sweater; watching the embers of your cigarette get brighter as you take another drag. You look over to your left and you can see Mark, illuminated by the lights inside, shuffling around the inside of your Airbnb. He was so lost inside that place, not knowing where everything was stored. _He’s probably starting dinner_ , you chuckle to yourself.

You had gone outside just trying to gather yourself, trying not to think about what the next day had in store.

Another puff, you flick the cigarette and watch the embers trickle down to the ground. As you look up to the dark sky littered with stars; you wonder what brought you here; to this moment.

You had been wanting to take a break. A break to have time to yourself. You hadn’t been kind to yourself in the past weeks, the now healing scar on your right wrist was proof. You had beaten yourself up for days after Mark found you. Conversations lasted for days, Mark trying to understand what always was going through your mind; disorganized thoughts, thoughts of everyone, including yourself being better off without you there; not being good enough. Mark listened to you, which many people in your life had not cared to do.

An idea had popped into your head a few weeks ago and you told Mark. You told him that at some point you wanted to visit your family. You didn’t believe him when he told you that he had planned the trip that you wanted...He had everything planned out, the plane tickets, the Airbnb, he even organized with your very disorganized family to make sure you would be able to see them. He also couldn’t help but to be excited too, he had never seen New England in the fall. A very thoughtful and unexpected trip, a trip that you hadn’t thought about what it would entail. It would include seeing your slowly dying mother whom you loved but she used you, it was part of the disease you convinced yourself. It would also include seeing your father, who punished you for not doing things right.

A chilly fall breeze brought you back to your car and cigarette; another trail of embers trickle down, dying before they hit the ground. Your gaze slowly drifts into the line of trees separating you from the neighbors. Panic rises in your chest, surprising you. Waves of memories come crashing down on you like a tsunami, violent and unexpected.

_You came running to your father who was awake in the living room to tell him you couldn’t sleep. You probably weren’t older than 7 but he told you to run around the outside perimeter of the house in the pitch dark till you were tired, not concerned of the possibility of the wild animals that came to visit the yard at night._

Another memory crashed; _you still weren’t very old but you had wanted your father to read you a book before bed. You had found him in his room watching TV. He had said no but you insisted. All of a sudden, in one motion, he was off his bed and hitting you for not listening. You could no longer feel the pain of the hit, but the fear still loomed._

The memories keep coming and keep crashing, almost like they happened yesterday. Some of them are repeats of the memories you just had, some are you trying to take care of your drunk mother years after the divorce, trying to keep your siblings out of her way.

Another one; _you had gotten a call from your grandmother, telling you that your mother had been transferred from a hospital to another, on a ventilator. You had sunk to the floor of the bathroom at work, filled with panic, anger and turmoil; tears not asking permission to be released. You had run from the bathroom; your sacred place for crying; into the room that housed your coworkers; you told them you couldn’t finish your shift. That same day, you had gone to see your mother, advising your sisters that they shouldn’t see her with a tube down her throat._

_You had gone to see her. It was hard to see your mom. You knew she wasn’t quite asleep, but eerily similar. The mechanic movements bringing her chest up and down; condensation growing in the breathing tube; gunk you knew that was coming out of her stomach through the NG tube; pumps housing medications constantly alarming…_

A touch pulls you out of the stream, muffled by your sweater. “Hey” the touch says. You slowly turn your head towards the right- towards the voice, as if stuck in molasses and you drift out of the goop. _It’s Mark_. His eyes only focused on you. His hand still gently touching your shoulder, you back up, just out of reach.

“I-I can’t, I’m sorry” you stutter, shakily taking another drag of the cigarette; admiring the ash that had built up at the end.

He puts his arm down to his side, waiting for you to say something.

_Again, there was nothing you wanted to say. How could you tell him that this trip was a mistake? A trip that you had desperately wanted and needed was a mistake? He had worked even longer in the past weeks to make sure that he didn’t have to do any work on this trip. How could you disappoint him again? All you have ever been is a disappointment; to yourself, to him, to your parents, to anyone and everyone who ever gave a damn about you._

His voice pulls you back to him “Y/N?”

You look up at him, his glasses reflecting some light from the porch, “I-I” you start.

You try to collect your thoughts while he waits.

Words finally form at your lips “I need a shower,”

He ushers you to follow him inside. You follow, willing your legs to follow him; flicking the burnt out cigarette onto the tar of the driveway; stomping it out as you walk on towards the house. He guides you towards the bathroom, giving you a towel from underneath the sink. As he steps out of the bathroom he reminds you to keep the bathroom door unlocked, you nod in agreement. You shut the door after him and you consider locking the door anyway. That was the one thing that he asked of you, after what happened in the bathroom weeks ago.

You try to convince yourself that he’s just concerned but a little voice nags at you _"He doesn't want you on his conscious if anything were to happen, he doesn't care,"_

You start the shower, only guessing which knobs were which. Hot water flows out of the faucet which burns your cold hands as you test the water. You pull the lever to bring the water to the shower head. You step back from the tub and take off your clothes one piece at a time; starting at your sweater; finishing at the socks on your frozen feet. Finally, you slowly run your fingers through the hasty braid which you had put your hair in for the trip, letting your hair fall loose around your shoulders.

You climb into the shower which conveniently doubles as a tub. You feel your body slump to the bottom of the tub and you cross your legs, the tub just big enough. You feel the scalding water pelt your skin, resting your head against the wall. Your body resting underneath the stream from the shower. Another memory hits you.

_You had been at work, when you got a phone call, a number that you recognized the area code from. You answered the phone against your gut; it was an officer who had called you, trying to get into contact with your siblings. Your mother had been taken to the hospital after being found confused in her car in a ditch. You were too far away from home to be with your siblings who had been asleep and now home alone, so you arranged another close-by family member to stay with them. It hadn’t been til the next day when child protective services called you that you had found out that your mother had been drunk in her car that night._ You could still recall those emotions, like an ache after breaking a bone. Confusion, panic, anger all still linger if you thought about it too long.

You blink and you are back in the shower with water still coming down. Your arms were red from the heat, and your wrist stung from where you had cut weeks ago. Trying to keep yourself in reality you press deep into the healing wound sending searing pain up your arm.

Remaining on the floor of the shower. you looked around and saw that Mark had placed your toiletries on the shelf within the shower. You grab the color-coordinated shampoo bottle from your seated position and lather your hair, almost simultaneously rinsing it out from sitting directly underneath the showerhead. You grab another slightly differently colored bottle of conditioner and run it through your hair, taking a break from the pelting water, you rest your head on the side of the shower, letting the conditioner soak in your hair.

You didn't want to get out of the shower, the water encasing you in its warmth. Memories continued to flash as water dripped down your face. The amount of time that passed while you sat there, reliving those memories is unknown, it could’ve been hours, but you decide that you should get out, not knowing how long you had been there. You lower your head back to the water, and rinse out the conditioner, feeling the silkiness run out of your hair. You raise yourself until you find yourself standing and turn off the water. You step out over the edge of the tub and grab the soft lavender towel that Mark had given you. You tousle your hair with the towel to dry it off and guide the towel across your body. As you look towards the sink, you see a pile of clothes. A pile that Mark must’ve brought for you while you were in the shower, since you didn’t think to grab any clothes before hopping in the shower. He had folded an oversized shirt, a pair of pajama pants, and some underwear for you. Shaking, trying to steady your breaths, you slowly slip on the clothes, and put your damp hair into a loose, messy bun. You slowly make your way to the bathroom door and turn the knob, the door catching on the carpet of the hallway. You step into the hallway and you can hear the clanging of pots or pans, _Mark still must be making dinner_ , you think.

You find your way to the bedroom where you and Mark had set down your suitcases when you had arrived. Mark's black suitcase on one side and your blue suitcase on the other; suitcases popping in contrast to the cream-colored comforter. You feel your body floating towards the bed, waiting to engulf you. You lift the suitcases onto the floor, first yours and then Mark's, both landing on the floor loudly.

You pull back the covers of the down comforter, soft against your skin. You crawl into bed to settle on your side of the bed and pull the blanket up to your neck, encasing you. Your gaze remains forward to stare at the wall, unwillingly, tears stream down your face. You stay in that position until you feel a dip in the bed behind you, and a large sigh follows. _Mark_. You hold your breath to try to staunch the tears.

"What's going on?" he asks quietly, trying to put an arm around your waist, on top of the blanket that you were so desperately trying to disappear under.

You smile at the wall trying to bring your cheeriness to the front, back still facing Mark, "I-uh" you pause, "long day," you decide on, slowly exhaling, pushing his arm off of your waist behind you.

"Well, you know Y/n, I'm here and will always be here for you for whatever you need," he says as if he knows exactly what's going on.

_Well? Does he know that something is wrong? No, he couldn't. You're fine, nothing's wrong. How could you bring up what happened with your family? It would wreck him. He would feel awful, he would feel like this was his fault. It's not his fault. He didn't know..._

A touch on the back brought you back to staring at the wall. You could feel Mark rubbing circles into your back, firmer and firmer. You realize that your breathing picked up and you could feel your heart racing in your chest. _You had to calm yourself down, Mark couldn't know._ You close your eyes, focusing on your breathing. As Mark rubs a circle in your back, you take a breath in, as he rubbed another, you exhaled. Lying there in the silence, you could hear yourself breathe and the rhythmic rubbing of fabric. You focus on the endless circular touch to calm your breathing. When your breaths finally steadied you heard “ _there you go_ ” softly by your ear and felt a soft peck on your temple.

You move your hand from your side to wipe your face. You feel matted hair sticking to your face from tears and swipe it to the side. You lift up the covers and shift your body toward Mark's, turning over, so you could face him. Mark was lying on his side, head propped up by his elbow, his black scraggly hair tucked in a tiny ponytail, his face no longer graced by his glasses. 

"Hey," he says, moving his arm from his side back to rest on your waist.

"Hey yourself," you chuckle weakly, grabbing his hand on your waist, and moving it between you both, entangling your fingers.

"Y/N, What's going on?" he inquires gingerly. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. Like genuinely fine. I just want to help, I know something's up, I just don't know what you're going through. You've been acting odd since we got here," he finishes.

Tears well up in your eyes, "You're right, I don't want to talk about it" you start, exhaling, gathering your thoughts. Watching Mark's unchanging facial expression. You could tell he wasn't mad or upset, just concerned, yet again.

"I don't want to disappoint you" you state.

His face scrunches in confusion. "How could I be disappointed in you? I-"

"You planned this trip for me!" You interrupted him.

"Yeah, and?"

"I just, you don't understand." Shaking your head.

"Enlighten me" he nudges.

"I should have never- We shouldn't have-" your breathing quickened. "It's all my fault- I wanted to see them- I just- didn't think this would happen"

“What do you mean? That what would happen?”

You gesture to the air “This! All of this! I thought it would be smoother - that I wouldn’t be like THIS!" you gesture towards yourself, "that I wouldn’t have this deep disgusting feeling in my stomach. That-that I could handle this…” you trail off, tears trailing down your face.

“Y/N, I don’t understand. I-”

You cut him off again “I know you don’t and that’s not your fault. I never told you. I thought I could do it on my own. I know you care for me, I really do, I just didn’t want you involved…”

“Now you’re starting to scare me a little, what happened?” he chuckles lightly.

“What didn’t happen,” you joke. _That was a mistake, that caught his attention._

The small smile he had on his face dropped into a look of concern, his brow furrows.

The tears temporarily stop dripping down your face. You lift up the covers and sit cross-legged facing Mark. The blanket still covering your legs and you could feel the soft pillows leaning against your right leg.

“Can you find me another blanket?” you ask.

“Yeah, of course,” Mark twists his body and gets off the bed. “I think there should be some extras in the closet,”

You see him walk to the closet with ease and rummage around until he returns with the softest of blankets. You twirl the baby blue blanket until it lands on your shoulders. You tightly tuck the blanket under your arms as you let them rest on your knees. Mark is sitting right in front of you, somehow managing to also sit cross-legged while managing to leave space in between you.

“‘Member how we met?” you start.

‘Yeah I do,” A smile sneaks out at the corner of his mouth. “Me and Ethan were picking up props for a video, just you know the odds and ends of it. When we left the store and headed into the parking lot, we heard a screech and metal grinding. We ran over to the noise, hands still full of shopping bags. And there you were; a pair of jean shorts, a tee, and flip flops- all in the middle of goddamn December. But you were there trying to help someone that went over a curb and into a light post. Smoke was coming out of the front of the car but you didn’t care. You were yelling at people to call an ambulance but you stayed with the guy. It was one of the bravest things I’ve seen… You even helped out when the ambulance showed up and stayed with him until he left in that ambulance. Me and Ethan had stayed, mostly because I asked him too. I was... I was in awe of you. We were about to leave when Ethan pushed me into your path, and I nearly knocked you over. You didn’t seem to mind, I complimented you on how you handled the situation and you down played it, like you did it every day; which at the time I didn't know that you did. We stood and talked there for a while, so long I didn’t even realize that Ethan had gone to the van. I didn't even notice the bags start to dig into my skin for holding them for so long but I didn't care. And I” he chuckled “I didn’t even introduce myself until we were about to part ways, and you made a comment about how you thought you knew me from somewhere, but I played it off and against all of my better judgement, you ended up with my phone number. And well, we’re here now”

“Do you remember why I came out to California, to begin with?”

“You said it was because you were born there and wanted to visit, I think, something along those lines” he concludes.

“I probably did say something like that when we met, but I was out there because I wanted time to myself because my family were being shitheads, and I couldn't tell you that, we had just met.” You chuckle nervously.

  
“Wha-”

“I came out to California because everyone in my family were being shits and I needed a break. A break from the drama and anger and disgust and embarrassment and the lies and the manipulations..” you trailed off, avoiding eye contact. After a moment you began again. “I needed an excuse to leave at least for a little while and an excuse to tell people; I had liked it so much the first time I came out when I was younger it was an easy ‘lie’” you air quote, “I just happened to meet you while I was out there…” you pause, looking down at your lap.

“And it was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.” A smile escapes your lips, looking back up at him.

All you could see was the worry in his eyes, wanting to know what happened, but knowing enough not to push you.

“I-I” you start. Closing your eyes you began again, giving in to his concerns.

“I was about 8 when my mother and bio-dad divorced and that wasn’t what has bothered me, it was everything that came before... “ Tears again escaped your closed eyes.

“I couldn’t do anything right for my dad and it wasn’t the whole 'I was a disappointment to him and he treated me like a disappointment.'" you ramble "It was so much more... I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night and we lived on some land that was really close to some woods that obviously had wild animals in there. So when I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, he would make me run around the house at night, in the dark, with no light until I was tired. Or another night I asked him to read me and book and I bothered him so much that he hit me. But the worst part was, when I tried to talk to him about it after the divorce, he told me that I made it all up.”

“Y/N, I’m so-”

Eyes still closed, you cut him off; “There’s more Mark, so much fucking more, I just need a minute,”

You opened your eyes, taking a slow and steadying breath. You glanced at Mark; you notice a single tear streak trailing down his face.

"It wasn't just my mom being a shithead a couple of years ago... She drank herself to the brink of death. So many years of fighting her to put down the bottle, years of praying that she wouldn't kill someone when she drove drunk when nobody would call the police… Or fuck; being hospitalized so many times we became numb to it; we figured whenever she’d go the hospital we’d get the call that she finally died... I needed to get out."

Looking at Mark, you could see his brow furrow, you could tell he was slowly thinking. _Oh shit, you think, he thinks I moved out to be with him to get away. He thinks I don't love him. He hates me. He doesn't want me anymore._

Panicked, you try to reassure him; "I never came to live with you to just get out, I need you to know that. My FIRST thought when you asked me to move out to California was excitement. Excited to see you every day, to come home to you, to be with you. The thoughts about my mom came second. You are the best that ever happened to me in so many ways."

Tears overwhelm you. Tears turn into sobs, if you had been standing, you would have crumbled into the floor, but you wanted to melt into the bed; to disappear. Through the tears, you can see Mark inching towards you and he grabs your hands and gives a squeeze.

"I know you better than you think I do," he states, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. "I know that the guilt would have killed you if you just used me to get out of the situation, it may have attributed to you moving out to California sooner but I'm not complaining about that" he smiles and gives a small chuckle; giving your hands another squeeze and you chuckle realizing he is right. _He does know me..._

You exhale "I'm so sorry. I didn't want to bring it up, any of it, it just hurts, and if I don't talk about it, it hurts less. The pain getting tucked underneath the surface is so-o mu-ch better than any-ything else," Your breathing hitches in your throat.

He moves his hands from yours, encasing you with his body. You sob into his chest; letting the pain you held inside for so long wash over you and onto his shirt. The pain is so intense, you feel the air catching in your chest, not being able to move. You bring your palms against his chest, trying to push him away, but he doesn't move, solid as a rock; his breathing stays steady. You let your arms fall to your side giving up. After a while, your breathing syncs with Mark's even, calm breaths. After a few minutes, he pulls away from you, letting himself fall next to you, lying on his side propped up by his elbow. He rests his hand in your hand that drifted back to your knee, interlacing fingers.

"Y/n, I'm here for you, always. I wish I had known what had gone on between you and your family so I could help you, but I understand why you didn't tell me. I realize that everything has come to a head for you recently, but just know, I don't plan on leaving. I love you and everything that you come with 'cause that makes you, you and I wouldn't have it any other way. I promise" he pledges, squeezing your hand tighter as he finishes.

"Mark, I'm not so sure," you confide. "you have seen me on some bad days. like a couple of weeks ago in the bathroom or even tonight, I can't make any guarantees that I won't have more bad days. Or that they won’t be any worse. These things are hard, not just for me, but I know that they are hard for you too. I should've done this weeks ago, but I'm giving you an out. No guilt, no hard feelings..."

"Y/n!" he pulls himself into a sit and takes a hold of your face, not hard by any means, just so you both can look at each other.

"I don't want an out, I want you. I want to be there for the wonderful, amazing times we have together and for the times where I can be there for you. I can't imagine my life without you. I mean that with the most sincerity you can fathom; and I know you'll think I'm telling you lies and shit but Y/n, I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, I swear. You mean the world to me and I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you in it." he blinks his tears away.

"We don't have to go tomorrow, if you don't want to, we can just take a vacation here, and do nothing. I've been meaning to take a vacation for a while anyway, so really, it's a win-win" he smirks, wiping the trail of tears away.

"I uh already told my sisters that uh we landed and were settling in at the Airbnb so I at least have to see them," you shrug.

"wait, FUCK!" you exclaim, Mark looks at you, confused.

"I uh never, fuCK," you hold your head in your hands and belt out laughing.

In between your laughter, you manage to get some words out along the lines of "My family doesn't know that I'm dating you, they think I'm dating some rich asshole named Matt that works in accounting. I never knew how to tell them that my boyfriend is famous. They know like the big things but like, they don't know that's it's you and it doesn’t help that we’ve kept it a big secret from your fans"

After getting through your laughter, you see Mark drag his hand down his face in disbelief; "Well, I guess uh, we'll deal with it tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I guess" you reply with another shrug of your shoulders.

"Y/N, we'll just take one day at a time, ok? That's all we can really do, ok?" he assures you.

"One day at a time," you agree, squeezing Mark's hand and you pull him into the pillows.


End file.
